Time to Go
Log Title: Time to Go Characters: Arkeville, Helperbot, Ron, Sparkplug, Spike Location: Great Dome - Iacon - Cybertron Date: April 03, 2016 TP: Seacons Arise TP Summary: After the ordeal in Trion Square, The Witwickys headed home after given a full salute by the Autobots present for Sparkplug’s possibly-last sendoff. Category:2016 Category:Logs As logged by Sparkplug - Sunday, April 03, 2016, 11:32 PM Great Dome - Iacon - Cybertron :Located in Iacon, the Great Dome is the city-state's center piece. It outlines Iacon Central and provides protection to the Celestial Spires, where the government of Iacon is seated. Currently the Great Dome functions as the main Autobot base on Cybertron. Because Iacon tends to be the place that the Autobots protect best, the Dome and the Spires are of symbolic importance to them and they often refer to them to signify amazement, surprise or exasperation. The last day - Sparkplug has been pretty much running on adrenaline. Now, they've done all they can. With Sparkplug's weakened state, he pretty much confined to a wheelchair. Helperbot ends up pushing Sparkplug to the shuttle to take them back home. Ron and Judy are already fastened in, and ready to take off. Leaving Sparkplug. The shuttle is parked right outside the medical building that bears his name. As Sparkplug his being wheeled into the shuttle, a growing sense is coming over that this is probably his last time he will see - and step foot on Cybertron (unless there's a crazy TP that requires him to come back). Though the dedication didn't exactly go off like the Autobots planned, it did give even more Autobots a chance to see Sparkplug in action, and his heroics only add to his legacy. As Sparkplug is being wheeled into the shuttle, about 5 Autobots are nearby the shuttle. A fully healed Jazz spots Helperbot roll Sparkplug toward the shuttle. Jazz gives a brief smirk and nods to Spike and Sparkplug before calling out "ATTENTION!" - and like a 'snap' the few Autobots that are here to witness Sparkplug's departure stand at attention as Helperbot rolls Sparkplug up the ramp. After the ordeal in Trion Square, Sparkplug is certainly wiped out, and can hardly stand - hence the need for the wheelchair. However, as he's wheeled toward the shuttle and given a salute by Jazz and the other Autobots, he looks nearly ready to cry - I mean, he gets something in his eye, as his frail chest swells with pride. "Ah, that's OK, guys. You don't need to do all that," he says, but it's obvious he's very, very touched by the gesture. Helperbot, without the knowledge of Sparkplug, is recording this and relaying it to Mel. Should be great copy. Spike walks up to Sparkplug and looks down the ramp as a few Autobots stand at attention. Spike hands dad his cane and says "Think you can stand for a final 'wave' before we take off?" Spike is there just enough to see if Sparkplug can get to his feet, but is ready to quickly exit the scene, giving Sparkplug one more iconic moment alone in the eyes of the other Autobots before the shuttle takes off. Exhaust emits from the thrusters of the shuttle as they prepare for takeoff. Jazz gives a quick look over at the few Autobots who are here to see Sparkplug off. Jazz curtly calls out, "Autobots, stand at attention!" And the 6-8 Autobots on hand turn and face Sparkplug at full attention, giving the elder Witwicky the hero's sendoff he's earned. Sparkplug accepts the cane and tries to stand, but can't without the help of Helperbot and/or Spike, and frowns, looking frustrated with himself and the limitations of his body. "I... I can't," he admits with shame, and half-falls, half-settles back into the chair. "Just get me out of here," he says in defeat, the moment ruined. He seems to wilt into his chair and just stares forward, not waiting to be seen as weak by the Autobots gathered here to give him a proper sendoff. Spike smiles and gestures Helperbot to wheel Sparkplug back to the observation area. Spike turns around raises a hand and gives a brief, appreciative nod before the bay doors close. He then quickly goes back to his father. The two then are fastened in as the shuttle takes off. Spike looks out at the window as Cybertron begins to grow smaller and smaller in view. He then looks at his father, trying to gauge what's going on through his mind. Possibly another chapter to chose in his quasi-victory lap - as he sees the building that bears his name grow smaller and smaller in view. Unfortunately, Sparkplug seems too focused on his own weakness and inability to walk to truly enjoy the enormity of the moment, or to appreciate the effort the other Autobots are making on his behalf. Instead he stares at the floor with his brow furrowed and his bony fists clenched, muttering darkly to himself. "Stupid," he murmurs to himself. "Stupid." Helperbot beeps in concern, and looks imploringly at Spike with his big robot eyes. Spike looks over at Helperbot and shakes his head, giving him an inaudible 'give us a moment' look. Spike looks at Sparkplug as Cybertron grows smaller and smaller. He gives a sad smile, "Dad... you were given a hero's welcome, and by your performance on Friday, they'll be talking about that for years." Spike sighs and looks at his dad. "I wish we could have had the full dedication, but truth be told, they saw you doing the exact things that resulted in having a building named after you." Demonstrating the depth and adaptability of its programming, Helperbot correctly interprets Spike's look and wheels backward, rolling over to the observation window and making a show of fixing its optics on the retreating Cybertron, as if entranced by the weak glow of the broken planet. Sparkplug glowers up at Spike as he tries to point out the positive. "They saw me weak and unable to even stand to say goodbye. I should never have come," he nearly spits on the deck. Spike looks at Helperbot. At this point, he isn't sure if Helperbot is alive, or just a really, really, really great AI. But he chooses to believe Helperbot is as alive and functioning as Hoist or Grapple. He gives an appreciative nod whispers "Thanks..." Spike breathes out his nose and frowns. Spike says, "Okay... I won't even say this is me talking...this is someone who doesn't even know you... there are at least two...maybe three Autobots who were critically wounded who you saved who would think very differently of that."" Spike after internally trying to come up with the right words to say, Spike finally says "If memory serves me correct, you called Chip Chase in to talk to me when I was partially paralyzed ... to show that I could still contribute to the Autobot cause, even if that one operation failed to get me to walk again after Frenzy nearly killed me." Sparkplug harrumphs stubbornly, like someone who doesn't want to be cheered up once they've settled on a self-pitying funk. "Don't use my own words against me," he grouses, gripping the arms of his wheelchair. "This isn't the same thing and you know it. Just leave me alone. I shouldn't have come." He glances around, embarrassedly looking for his brother and sister- in-law to see if they witnesses his public failure as well. Spike gets up and pats Helperbot, looking at the medbot. He mutters "Uh...I know this is an odd request, but I'm going to take you 'off duty' for about 8 hours. So... in the confines of this shuttle, try and do something you would like to do on your own. I'll watch over Sparkplug." Spike looks at Sparkplug and sighs. He nods in respect, "If you want to be alone, I'll leave..." He sighs, "But seriously... you're like my best friend. And what you did out there was nothing short of amazing." He gives a resigned sigh, "I'd like to hang out with you for a few before we have to crash... " Helperbot chirps, and shakes its head nervously, looking from Spike, to Sparkplug, outside the observatory window, and back at Spike. It starts to vibrate, and beeps again. "Are you sure?" it says plaintively. "Have I performed poorly? If you give me feedback I can attempt to improve." Sparkplug, meanwhile, scowls and looks back at the ground. "Do what you want," he spits. "Just don't expect me to sing Kumbaya with you and the rest of the Autobots." Spike takes Helperbot aside. Again, he isn't too sure he's fully sentient - but at this stage of development, he's going to error on the side of caution. He shakes his head. "No, you've done awesome. I'm just... " He sighs, thinking, "You do great at your job. But sometimes, everyone needs to take a break. And - Ratchet and Blaster would be very interested to know what you'd do in your spare time, so ... take this time to maybe relax...I'll be here, and if I need you, I'll signal you." Spike gets a beer out of the fridge and sits down near Sparkplug. He frowns. "Kumbaya ... when the hell have we ever done that?" Spike nurses his beer, but has a small glass in case Sparkplug wants some. But right now, he's thinking any offer of anything will result in the stubborn old man swiping it out of Spike's hand. Spike's tablet chirps "Your examination results have been processed." Helperbot seems to calm, and beeps and burbles in what passes for understanding. "Excellent," it allows cautiously, with muted enthusiasm. "I will ... study. May I download some of your texts on human and Cybertronian anatomy and medicine? I have an interest in comparative physiology." Sparkplug continues ignoring Spike, pushing his wheelchair over so he can stare moodily into deep space. Spike gives a brief nod and smiles at Helperbot. He gives an appreciative nod. "Thanks... " He then looks over sadly at his father and opts to stay in the room with his dad, but he opens his file to see his score - if he passed or not. Spike waits for the results to process. He clears his throat at Helperbot and says "I've also got some articles I pulled from the Harvard Medical Review board, but again... if you feel like anything...recreational - please go ahead. This is your time." He goes back to his tablet, anxiously looking for the results. Helperbot emits a slightly happier-sounding beep at that. "I will!" he chirps. "Perhaps also - you could recommend some music? You seem to be someone who enjoys such things." Helper seems somehow excited and hesitant at the same time - if one chooses to interpret its honks and hesitations in that manner. Sparkplug, in the meantime, continues to stubbornly stare out the window and sulk, studiously ignoring everyone else on the shuttle. Spike looks at the results and breathes out, mumbling "thank you, Primus." The grade he got was a not-too-shabby 93 percent - even better than 7 Autobots who also took the test. But not as good as 15 other Autobots, but to Spike's favor, he also had to learn the stuff the hard way, no programming implants. Spike nods. He gets up. "Actually...I'm going to go to bed, so I'm going to recommend maybe some ambient stuff - his name's Brian Eno." He looks at Sparkplug and gulps, "I'm going to crash, dad." Spike looks at Sparkplug and says "Heyah dad...I'm going to crash." Helperbot beeps in thanks, and searches the shuttle records for any of this 'Brian Eno', resolving to download some when they get back to Earth if none can be found in the ship's databanks. Sparkplug finally looks up, and half-growls quietly, "How'd you do?" Apparently he was more aware of his surroundings than he let on. He fixes Spike with his narrow, watery eyes, and turns his wheelchair slightly to face him. Spike download links 'Music for Airports' to Helperbot. He then heads to the other room, hoping to crash without seeing or bumping into anyone. He turns around to Sparkplug and sighs "I got a 93..." it should be a triumph, but seeing his dad this way makes him feel like he got a pathetic 84 percent. Spike sighs, feeling this trip was a total wash. Even though, if Sparkplug were the slightest bit enthused, it'd be a resounding triumph. After all, he showed many Autobots just why he deserves to have a building named after him. Sparkplug harrumphs quietly, but mutters, "I'm proud of you," just as Spike leaves the room. He then turns his chair back to stare out the window as Helperbot downloads the somewhat-appropriate 'Music for Airports' and fills the observatory with quiet ambient music. In spite of being officially off-duty, Helperbot keeps Sparkplug in his peripheral vision, staying out of the way but ready to jump in immediately the moment he's needed. Meanwhile on Earth, Dr. Arkeville manages to pull the files on Spike being force-fed a tube down his throat from Lifeline, flailing away after Dr. Arkeville's attack, and Sparkplug being forced to be helped into a wheelchair. #Sufferporn, better than #softcoreporn for sadists! Spike turns around and gives an appreciative nod to his dad. "Thanks..." He then heads to his own bed, hoping not to pass any relatives or Autobots. Strangely enough, a mere hour ago, this would have been an absolute cause for celebration. But someone's (not naming names) dejected reaction has pretty much cast a wet blanket on everyone's mood, everyone meaning Spike and Helperbot, meaning no one else has come in contact with Sparkplug's Eeyore-like misery. Cybertron is now a speck from Sparkplug's window as the shuttle heads back to Earth. As Spike heads home, the negative thoughts just seem to continue for poor ol' Sparkplug. Pay no mind that 2-3 Autobot lives were saved for his heroics. The Autobots saw him weakened. Couldn't even stand. Spike looks in to see Judy's sound asleep. One of her last revelations to Ron before she crashed was "Okay... I'm not justifying what Sparkplug did to poor lil' Buster all those years ago... but... 'I GET it...' 'I think I truly, finally GET it - he was just tryin' to provide a better option for his sons than what he had." Ron stands, sure enough looking out the window at space, still awed by the fact that he's been able to travel through the cosmos and visit another planet in his lifetime - no wet blanket is going to ruin HIS trip. When he hears Spike returning to the sleeping area, he looks up and smiles. "Hey, Spike! I have to ask - do you ever get used this view? Because - wow. I'm not sure I can close my eyes to sleep, because I don't want to miss a minute of it!" Spike smiles, trying his best to hide how Sparkplug has pretty much killed the good vibes he had earlier. He does his best to put on a good face though. He shakes his head "No...absolutely not." He gives Ron a brief bro-hug "However, I can truly say that the adrenaline I felt yesterday from helping those 'bots has finally caught up with me. I GOTTA get some sleep." Spike looks at Ron. Spike's like a battery on a 3-year-old droid after 6 hours of use - at 8 percent. He gives a defeated sigh, and gestures into the room containing his surly dad. "Ron...I can't reach him. And i'm like...absolutely spent. Could you maybe..." He can't even finish his sentence. Ron nods, about to crack a joke until he hears Spike's earnest plea. He sobers immediately. "Sure, Spike. Don't worry about it. I know Sparky - his pride is hurt, but he'll be OK. Get some sleep. Everything will be better in the morning." He gives Spike a manly shoulder-clap - they've already just had one hug, and it's not like they have a foster- father/son relationship like Buster and he have. He turns to go slap some sense into his brother. Spike may be spent, but the amazing, 'once-in-a-lifetime chance' is too irresistible for Ron. Sparkplug frowns, looking at Ron's unbridled enthusiasm as he continues to look out the window, trying to revel in his fun. "Goddamnit, Ron, I said leave me alone!" Sparkplug continues to look on/pouts, unaware he has someone who is utterly entranced at his amazing luck right now - to be a human involved in space fight. And perhaps also after smoking a very small bowl during Spike/Sparkplug's talk about 30 minutes earlier. In this instance, Ron's unadulterated (and possibly chemically-enhanced) joy is just too powerful for his brother's crankiness to dent, and he spends half the night up with Sparkplug, hammering at his crankiness until it cracks. Finally Sparkplug smiles just to get Ron to leave him the hell alone, and then wheels off to bed, feeling a little bit better in spite of himself. He supposes it was a worthwhile trip after all, if only to help out with the awfulness in Trion Square. Maybe he made a difference after all. Sparkplug didn't exactly remember a week ago, but a week ago, he was barely conscious, hardly able to even take a few bites of pureed food without assistance. Now, he may be a miserable codger, but at least he's up and coherent. It's all relative.